


The Remedy (You Speak Like Someone Who Has Never Been Smacked In The Fucking Mouth)

by BeautyInChains



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Marking, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Docking, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, M/M, Master/Slave, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Precome, Rough Sex, Roughness, Submission, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24050560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyInChains/pseuds/BeautyInChains
Summary: "Let me be crystal clear: You are coming only because I am allowing you to come. Because you are my toy and I desire it. I own you. I own this cock and I want you to remember this feeling.”The tables are turned once Negan becomes Rick's prisoner at Alexandria.
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Negan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	The Remedy (You Speak Like Someone Who Has Never Been Smacked In The Fucking Mouth)

**Author's Note:**

> So this past week I decided to let a real life friend in on the fact that I write fan fiction. I sent him some to read and he was pretty damn pleased about it. He has a real thing for Negan and requested that I write a Negan centric fic that included docking, teasing, and submission. The other partner was my choice, so I obviously went with Rick, because I'm a thirsty bitch with a problem. This is my first time writing docking. It was hard because it was (and continues to be) a foreign concept, and also there is just no sexy word for foreskin. Like, I love an uncut cock as much as the next person, but the word itself is just not cute. My friend suggested "wind sock" and I suggested he shut the fuck up, because what??!
> 
> If anyone wants to give me docking specific feedback I would be grateful! I'm also not usually a dubcon kind of gal, so this whole thing is really just an adventure and a half. Title has been borrowed from Puscifers song The Remedy, which sort of became my theme song for this fic.

Negan hates the way his heart starts pounding in anticipation when the door opens. When he hears the heavy thud of Rick’s boots against the stone steps that lead down to his cell. Rick hasn’t visited him in almost a week. At least, he thinks it’s been about a week. It’s hard to keep track. Time doesn’t mean a goddamn thing in this cell and they both know it. He can hear Rick pause at the bottom of the stairs and shivers, wiping his sweaty palms over his denim clad thighs. Negan’s already hard, but that comes as no surprise. A less than stiff breeze could have him ready to bust after seven days without his own touch. Without Rick’s.

Rick sidles up to his cell, drawing Negan’s attention by dragging Lucille over the bars with a loud clatter. In the beginning Negan would have snarled, pressed himself right up against the bars and threatened Rick for daring to put his unworthy hands on her. But that was a long time ago and so he swallows his pride and he waits. “Michonne visit you yesterday?” Rick asks, tsks when Negan nods, “I asked you a question and I expect a reply.”

Negan swallows dryly, “Yes.”

Rick taps Lucille against the bars again, “Yes, what?”

“Yes... _Sir_ ,” he murmurs distastefully.

“Then you’re nice and clean for me?” Michonne had visited him yesterday, brief as it was. She hadn’t said a word as she opened the cell door and dropped a bucket of soapy water and sponge at his feet. Bathing a prisoner was not high on their list of priorities, Negan knew, and so he knew just as well that the timing had been deliberate. Rick wanted him clean. He had debated kicking the bucket over in an act of defiance and forcing Rick into being subjected to his rank, filthy body. He could take the punishment, but he couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to Lucille. In the end he’d washed himself thoroughly head to toe, spending extra time on any bits he thought Rick might scrutinize.

Negan had been hard and aching by the end of it, despite the cold water and even cooler air. _No touching_ , Rick had said, _you don’t get to touch_. _I’ll know if you do_. There had been so many nights where Negan had nearly given in, hand creeping toward his belt as he lay back in his cot after dark. But he knew there was no way Rick wouldn’t find out. And so Negan had been good. _Good_. He hates that stupid fucking word. It sits sour in his stomach, burns like acid on his tongue. And yet, somehow, when Rick says it, it curls hot and low and desperate at the base of his spine. It makes Negan want to be good. He nods.

“Good,” Rick drawls, and there it is. Negan feels hit cock throb, feels the heat climb up his chest and settle in his cheeks. “Stand up and strip for me.” Negan taps his fingers against his knees. He hates this part. He feels naked enough without Lucille at his side but, then again, that’s the point of this entire exercise, isn’t it? Stripping away the layers until there’s nothing left. Until Negan is open and vulnerable and nothing more than a toy. Rick’s toy to do with as he sees fit. He rises to his feet and tries not to draw attention to the way his cock is straining against his jeans. It’s no use, Rick’s eyes drop to the bulge there and his eyes darken, a mean little smirk tugging almost imperceptibly at his lips. Negan swallows hard, works at the buttons of the green flannel he’s wearing. Rick clucks his tongue. “Slow,” he says, “Do it slow.”

Negan sucks on his bottom lip, tries to steady his trembling fingers as he complies. He works the buttons open slow, pausing between each as his chest is slowly revealed, and then his stomach. His belly jumps as his knuckles graze his oversensitive skin. Rick’s leaning against the cell bars now, watching, breathing just a bit harder. Negan rids himself of the flannel, setting it back on top of his cot. His fingers drop to his belt and pause. Rick nods. Negan works his belt open, the little clack of the buckle seeming to echo in the cell. The button and zipper of his jeans follow. He shucks them down his legs and steps out of the denim, kicking it to the side. Negan clasps his hands in front of himself, not quite successful in obscuring the way his cock is tenting his boxers.

“You know,” Rick murmurs darkly, “I’m gettin’ real tired ‘a you playin’ dumb. I don’t know how else t’ say it. Take ‘em off. _Now_. I don’t want nothin’ left. You get nothin’, because you are nothin’, you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Negan says and he hates the way his voice sounds; a rough croak of a thing, so desperate that it sounds foreign to his own ears. He tugs at the waistband and lets them fall, cock springing up against his belly, red and wet and _Christ,_ Negan can actually smell how bad he needs it. Wonders if Rick can, too. He forces his hands behind his back, clasping his fingers together there as he drops his chin to his chest in submission.

“There it is,” Rick says and Negan can hear Rick slide his key into the lock of his cell, “Feels good, don’t it? T’ stop pretendin’,” he continues as the door creaks open. Rick slips inside, closes the door behind him, and Negan tracks his footfall until the toes of Rick’s boots come into his field of view. Negan jumps as Rick cards his fingers through his hair, tugging sharply at the strands at the nape of Negan’s neck. “What are you?” Negan winces at the grip Rick has on his hair, feels the precome that’s been welling up at his slit ooze down his shaft.

“Nothing. I’m nothing.”

“That’s right,” Rick coos condescendingly, “Who are you?” he asks, and the irony isn’t lost on Negan.

“No one,” he spits and gets another sharp hair tug for his delivery.

“That’s right,” Rick says again, “One more question, and this time I suggest you watch y’r fuckin’ mouth. Who do you belong to?” Negan shivers at the tone, knows that if he were to meet Rick’s eye he would find nothing but pure hatred and desire.

“You, Sir. I belong to you.”

Rick releases his grip on Negan’s hair before delivering a quick little backhand to his right cheek. “Good. That’s good. S’pose you ain’t so slow afterall,” Rick says. He rubs at his beard, considering. Negan can hear the scrape of his against his thick fingers. “Now, the last time I came t’ visit, I gave you an order. D’you remember what that order was?”

“Not to touch myself, Sir.”

“Mmhmm,” Rick hums, “And?”

“Not allowed to come, Sir.”

“Not allowed to come,” Rick repeats, nudging Lucille’s base against the tip of Negan’s cock, watching with a feigned sort of interest as a pearl of precome drips onto the stained wood. “Now, supposin’ you were a good little slut and followed my orders, you should be feelin’ pretty desperate about now,” he continues, tapping the bat’s handle against the side of Negan’s cock, watching it sway. “So what kind ‘a slut have you been this week?” Negan’s cheeks are burning with humiliation. He wants to snarl and snap and fight. He wants to tell Rick to go fuck himself. At least make Rick work for his submission. But it’s been a week without any company besides Michonne dropping off the bathwater. And Rick is so close to him now and smells so good, and Negan’s cock is obvious and aching where it arches out in front of him, dripping steadily onto the floor with an audible little splat.

“Good,” Negan gasps, “I’ve been a good slut.”

The next backhand is unexpected. It catches Negan off guard and he nearly topples with the force of it. “Good sluts don’t forget their manners.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

Negan jumps as Rick’s hand drops between his legs to cradle his full, aching balls. “If you have been a good slut and what you’re sayin’ is true, then you ought ‘a be fit t’ burst. Is that right?” Rick asks, rolling the sensitive sac in his hand.

“Y-yes, Sir,” Negan replies breathlessly.

“Yeah?” Rick says, wrapping his fingers loosely round Negan’s sopping wet cock. “Go on then, show me. Fuck my hand like the filthy little whore you are. You don’t need t’ pretend with me. We both know you want to.” Negan moans. He tries to catch it as it rises up his throat, but he fails. It comes out strangled instead and Rick smiles at the sound. And it’s not a pleasant smile. It’s mean and dark and reminds Negan too much of himself. None of that matters. Negan’s hips start pumping before he can stop them, fucking his cock into Rick’s fist. It’s just tight enough to tease, but a tease is all he needs after all this time. His thrusts are sloppy and uncoordinated. It’s a pathetic display and he knows it. “Oh, look at you. Need it so bad. You gonna come? Yeah?” Rick doesn’t give Negan the chance to answer, releases his grip instead and slaps Negan’s cock before wrapping his fingers around the base and squeezing hard. And it hurts. _Holy hell_ , does it hurt. Negan hisses, his sweat damp fingers slipping in their grip behind his back. “You don’t get to decide when you come. _If_ you come. Who decides?”

“You do, Sir.”

Rick releases his grip on Negan’s cock and tosses Lucille down onto the cot. She bounces twice before settling into the sheets. Negan wants to object to her treatment, spit curses, but finds his mouth flooding with saliva as Rick’s hands drop to his belt. He works it open slow, allowing the anticipation to build. When Rick takes out his cock Negan can see that he’s only about half hard, but that changes quickly as Rick wraps his fingers around his length and tugs with purpose. Negan watches Rick’s cock swell in his grip. It’s impressive, to say the least. Big. Negan shudders to think what Rick might dare to do with it. But then Rick steps right up into his space and Negan gasps as the head of Rick’s cock bumps up against his own weeping slit.

“Now, I ain’t no stranger to men,” Rick says and Negan’s tongue twitches in his mouth with the vitriol he longs to spew, “But I ain’t never seen one wet as you. Fuckin’ soaked. Drippin’ for me like a bitch in heat.” The growl starts in Negan’s chest, unbidden, and Rick narrows his eyes at him. “Because that’s what you are, ain’t it? A bitch. _My_ bitch,” he amends, pulling back his foreskin to reveal the flush head of his uncut cock. Negan pants hard, nails digging into the backs of his hands as Rick lines them up again, tip to tip. Negan whines when Rick’s hand curls back around his cock, tightly this time, holding him in place as he uses his other hand to stroke his own cock, working his foreskin over the head, and then over Negan’s. He watches, mystified as his cock disappears behind the thin pink flesh.

“Jesus Christ!” Negan spits, unable to help himself, arms beginning to tingle behind his sweaty back.

“Y’re real lucky I’m busy, else you’d be catchin’ another hand for that fuckin’ mouth ‘a y’rs.” Negan bites down his lips to keep himself from saying anything else. He focuses instead on the sensation of Rick’s foreskin gliding up and over the slick head of his cock, the sensation of Rick’s cock nudged up and rubbing against his own. The sight of the skin stretched to accommodate Negan’s girth has him moaning. It’s bizarre and foreign and so fucking good. And whether it’s actually that good or it's just because Negan’s gone without for so long, he can’t be sure, but it doesn’t matter. He can feel it building already and he sways on his feet. Rick slows his hand, shaking his head. “Forgettin’ y’rself already,” he says, voice dripping with disappointment, “Just how many chances you supposin’ you’ll get? You should know by now I expect more from my fuck holes.”

“Fuck, sorry. ‘m sorry, Sir.”

Negan feels goosebumps break out across his arms and legs as Rick massages their crowns together with his foreskin. Negan’s breathing becomes a wet, ragged thing. “Y’re lucky I have plans for this,” Rick says, dropping the hand on Negan’s cock to caress his balls, cradle them in his warm palm. “I’m gonna give you one more opportunity to show me you’re not completely fuckin’ worthless. Hell, I’m even gonna let you run that fuckin’ mouth ‘a y’rs. Let’s see if you can’t convince me to let you come. Go on. Beg me, whore,” he snarls, gripping Negan’s cock once more and resuming his earlier pace. Negan’s not at all sure that he is going to be able to convince Rick before he blows.

“Please. _God_ , please, Sir. I can’t. It hurts, I need to come, _please_!” The words spill past his lips without a second thought. Without a first. He’s lost control. Or, just maybe, he’s given it away.

Rick grins, all sharp teeth, the apex predator. He’s pleased, on some level, with Negan’s submission. “You need it?” Rick asks, like it’s not obvious, “You need me?” And that’s another question altogether. Negan feels hot all over, a bead of sweat rolling down his spine as the question washes over him. Does he need Rick? Is that what has become of him?

“I need it,” Negan murmurs, “I need you, _Sir_.”

Rick’s eyes have gone dark and wild, almost unfocused as they flit over Negan’s flushed features. He’s panting, too. Not as hard as Negan, but his control has begun to slip. “I know you do,” Rick says, nodding at Negan, “And I want you to come for me now. But let me be crystal clear: You are coming only because I am allowing you to come. Because you are my toy and I desire it. I own you. I own this cock and I want you to remember this feeling.” He leans in close and Negan trembles at the sensation of Rick’s breath ghosting across his lips. “Come for me.”

And Negan does. His body unable to disobey Rick’s command. His eyes slip shut, jaw dropping, fingers finally giving and arms falling to his sides as his cock pulses hard. He almost blacks out with the sheer force of it. It goes on and on, spurt after spurt of hot come flooding Rick from the inside, filling every tiny ridge and curve. Rick moans at the sensation of Negan’s cock pulsing against his own and it’s the first true sound of pleasure to grace Negan’s ears. He almost misses it over the sound of his own pounding heart.

When Rick eases his foreskin back he’s still hard, red and throbbing now with Negan’s come dripping from his cock. There’s so much of it, there is no question that Negan has done as he was told. Something like pride swoops and simmers in his belly. Rick cradles his cock in one hand and grabs Lucille off the cot with the other, swinging her up and lightly onto Negan’s shoulder. The slight pressure and dark look in Rick's eye leave nothing open to interpretation. Negan sinks to his knees, clasping his hands obediently behind his back once again despite the agonizing ache. Rick clucks his tongue, strokes his cock to milk some of Negan’s come from his foreskin. “You’d best clean up y’r mess, unless y’d rather be lickin’ it up off the floor.”

Negan bites at his bottom lip, considering. Rick slides Lucille from Negan’s shoulder beneath his chin. The barbed wire drags against his flesh and Negan hisses as it catches and cuts and pulls. Negan’s head is tilted up then, and Rick doesn’t stop pushing until Negan is meeting his eyes. “And watch the teeth,” he says with a growl, “You use ‘em, you lose ‘em.” Negan licks his lips as he nods in understanding, the sting of the barbs worsening with the minute movement. Rick drops Lucille to the ground with a painful clatter, but Negan can’t find it in him to fight. Not anymore.

Any protests die on Negan’s tongue as Rick feeds him his cock. The viscous salt of his own jizz washes over his tongue and down his throat as he swallows. He minds his teeth, wriggles his tongue into Rick’s foreskin, lapping and swirling until Rick is nice and clean. He suckles at the skin hard, sensual little tugs that have Rick thrusting into his mouth. “ _Shit_ , knew there were better uses for that mouth ‘a y’rs,” he grits out, and he’s close. Negan works his way down until Rick’s cock hits the back of his throat and Negan’s nose is buried right into his belly. It hurts his jaw and he has to fight back the urge to gag around the cock in his throat, but it’s worth it. Rick’s thighs start to tremble, and Negan can feel him swell impossibly in his mouth. Rick hisses, jerks Negan off by the hair and jacks his cock hard and fast. He doesn’t give any warning before he grunts and then he’s coming all over Negan’s face. Negan winces as a thick rope splatters across his eye and runs down his cheek and another jets across his lip and nose. His tongue slips past his lips and he whines at the taste as it bursts on his tongue. Rick keeps stroking until he’s got nothing left to give.

Disappointment creeps its way into Negan’s gut when Rick sighs and begins tucking himself away. He stays on his knees, panting, feeling Rick’s come ooze down his cheeks and throat, drip down onto his chest. He knows what he must look like, thinks maybe he should feel ashamed for rolling over and taking it like a bitch, but he doesn’t. He likes it. He wonders if it means that Rick has broken him, if he’s been broken all along, or if Rick has actually put him back together. Some real Humpty Dumpty conundrum, he thinks.

Rick wipes his hand off on Negan’s sheets and picks Lucille up from the ground. He runs his fingers up and down her length once before giving her a swing. Negan winces as she swishes through the air, past his left ear with a whistle. Rick stares him down hard, nods when Negan remains on his knees, quiet and still. He reaches into his back pocket to retrieve a rag that Negan’s sure must have been white a one point but is instead a rusty red and throws it onto the ground in front of him. “Clean yourself up, slut,” he spits, “You’re filthy.”

And then he’s gone.

Negan scrubs at the come stinging his eyes, looks around his empty cell and decides that next week can’t come soon enough.


End file.
